turn.”
Bruno turned sharply and strode to the door leading to the
antechamber.
“Or maybe your sister’s turn,” said Il Serbo. “I’ve always
had a thing for doctors, you know.”
Bruno froze. But he did not turn around. He hit the intercom
to summon the guard to let him out, the laughter of Il Serbo filling his ears.
After an age, the door buzzed open and he burst out.
Il Serbo shouted after him, “We’re safer in here than you
lot are out there! You’ll see!”
The laughter still rang in Bruno’s mind long after he left
the cell behind.
Chapter 4
October 12
Bruno thought about the weather, hoping they wouldn’t get
caught in the rain, and trying to fill his head with thoughts other than worry
about his sister. He had ridden on his motorcycle with Cristian when their
shift was over, after neither one could get Carla on the phone and the hospital
had told both of them she wasn’t there.
Cases of the disease were now being reported from Rome to
Florence and Milan, and cities outside London and Paris as well. People who’d
had no known contact with the doctors were falling ill. All Western European
governments had declared states of emergency. That meant schools were shut and
recommendations were to stay at home. It also meant military mobilization and
troops with automatic weapons on the streets of every European capital. People
hunkered down. Some older people who had got the disease had already died, and
hospitals were being flooded with people who were sick or thought they were
sick. The island, as yet, had avoided infection. Over the protests of
businesses, Capri’s mayor and municipal council forbade the landing of any
ferries carrying passengers to the island, in an attempt to prevent its spread.
People could leave, but they couldn’t come back. But the island lay only a few
kilometers from land. A small boat could almost certainly make landfall on the
island undetected. Bruno believed their efforts to stop the disease’s spread to
the island would fail.
Carla lived in one of the nicest parts of Capri, not far
from the main square. There were a few people walking here and there. Most of
them wore a mask of some kind.
Bruno walked stiffly, his neck and back still sore from the
raid two days ago. “If she’s not there, I’ll—”
“Don’t worry. It’s Saturday afternoon, you’re overreacting.
I’m sure she’s around somewhere. If I know her she just forgot to charge her
phone,” said Cristian as they approached her apartment building.
Cristian pulled out his phone. “Hold on. Wait a sec.” He
tapped Bruno on the arm. “The website’s back online—I can finally download the
video—the guy with the Shakes! Christ! Bruno, you’ve got to see this.” Cristian
handed him his phone, the video already playing. Bruno didn’t look.
Cristian told Bruno about an infected Irishman living in
London who had taken pictures and video of himself and uploaded it to YouTube.
They pulled the video, but not in time to stop it from going viral. The man
calls his tremors “the Shakes,” saying it was like what happens the morning
after a night of binge drinking. The British media loved the name, and it
stuck.
“It just came out yesterday,” said Cristian.
“I don’t want to watch it,” said Bruno.
“Come on! This disease is insane, look what it does!”
Bruno relented.
The man in the video sat shirtless in front of the webcam.
Pustules oozing blood covered the man’s face and chest. Bruno could hear the
man wheezing, trying to talk in English about the disease’s symptoms as his
lungs filled with fluid. Listening to the man describe what was happening to
him made Bruno regret being able to understand English.
“Christ, do you know what kind of panic this will cause?”
said Bruno. “You think this is a fake one, too?”
“Even if it is a fake, it could still cause complete chaos,”
Cristian responded. “I spoke to some friends in Rome yesterday. Stores are
already having
Learning to Kill: Stories